


hey man, we're like, a little bit fucked up, aren't we?

by InvadingThoughts



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, I mean? technically?, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Platonic Relationships, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Suicidal Character(s), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvadingThoughts/pseuds/InvadingThoughts
Summary: There’s an insistent chatter in the back of his mind, one that’s a little too loud and a little too harsh, and it bites at him. Normally he’d scale it- how bad is your anxiety on a scale of one to ten- but then again, staring at Jeremy, it’s obvious that he has it worse. Not quite a corpse, not yet exactly, especially since Geoff can still count the breaths he takes, but the kid is definitely hanging on by a thread.It doesn’t help that he’s sitting in front of the college library at two in the morning, staring at the concrete floor like he’s looking right through it and down into hell.





	hey man, we're like, a little bit fucked up, aren't we?

He can't help but wonder, staring at Jeremy he lets a lit cigarette dangle between his fingers, if the kid wants to press the burning tip against his skin  _just_ as much as Geoff does.

There’s an insistent chatter in the back of his mind, one that’s a little too loud and a little too harsh, and it bites at him. Normally he’d scale it- how bad is your anxiety on a scale of one to ten- but then again, staring at Jeremy, it’s obvious that  _he_ has it worse. Not quite a corpse, not yet exactly, especially since Geoff can still count the breaths he takes, but the kid is  _definitely_ hanging on by a thread.

It doesn’t help that he’s sitting in front of the college library at two in the morning, staring at the concrete floor like he’s looking right through it and down into hell.

Kinda takes away the significance of a ten on his account, when Jeremy’s pulling in a fifty.

Normally, if it were daytime- if it weren’t a little  _too_ dark and if Geoff’s mind wasn’t currently trying to implode- he’d go over there. When it comes down to it, not many of his college students like to be comforted by their tutors, but maybe Jeremy’s the exception. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’d tell Geoff to fuck off. Maybe he’d press that cigarette against the flesh of Geoff’s arm and turn him to ash like his mind desperately craves.

But then, that would be murder, of course. Or assisted suicide? Eh, it’s too morbid of a thought for Geoff to follow when he’s dissociating at his place of work, even if it’s well past office hours. So yeah, any other time, he’d help. But he’s got his own issues to focus on at the current moment, so Jeremy’s will have to wait.

The buzzing in the back of his head gets louder. Guilt settles heavily on his chest and a moment later Geoff finds himself shuffling over to the kid, trying not to throw up.

God, tonight’s just been  _fucking great._

“You alright, Kid?” he mumbles, hating the sound of his voice. Hating the way his hands shake. Hating the way his chest heaves.

Jeremy doesn’t even spare him a glance, just continues to stare unblinkingly at the ground. He does, though, suck in a very broken and shuddery breath, because humans are living organisms and they require oxygen to survive. A fact that Geoff loathes, and he’s sure that if he asked Jeremy, the kid would agree too. His answer or lack thereof doesn’t really do much for Geoff though, and so he hovers there awkwardly, slipping his hands into his pockets and then taking them back out again.

It’s cold, and he can’t decide whether he wants the frostbite or the bite of his fingernails digging into his palm, safely hidden from his student’s eyes. Jeremy’s not really paying all too much attention to him though, so he doesn’t really have anything to worry about.

That a lie. He worries about everything.

“Uh… do you- do you need an adult?” he stutters out, eyes darting away and then back again. He can’t hold eye contact; Neither can Jeremy. “Need me to go get someone?” he asks.

“Aren’t you an adult?” Jeremy replies, and Geoff barely keeps the hiss from escaping through his teeth.

He’d like to retract his earlier statement. Jeremy isn’t hanging by a thread, he’s already snapped. He can hear it in his voice.

“Legally, sure. Mentally?” he asks, giving a small shrug, “no fucking way.” He gives up the pretence of trying to convince a dead kid that he’s mentally sane and takes a seat next to Jeremy on the steps. He scratches his fingernails down his arm. Jeremy watches with rapt attention.

He didn’t notice earlier, but there’s a certain wetness to his eyes that makes Geoff’s heart clench.

“You know, talking… helps? Right?” he whispers and Jeremy rears back as if he’s been hit, body curling in. He shakes his head, once or twice in sharp motions before squeezing his eyes closed.

Wrong words. God, he’s such a fuck up. He hates his mouth. He hates his brain. He hates the shitty excuse for a life he’s made for himself here in Austin.

There’s not much he can say after that. Jeremy doesn’t want to talk and Geoff doesn’t blame him, so they wallow together in silence. He scratches at his arms a couple of times, wishing he could see the red marks he’s making on his skin in the darkness. Slowly, Jeremy’s eyes peek open, and then his gaze drifts back over to track Geoff’s movements.

“I can’t die, Mr Ramsey,” he whispers and Geoff feels sorry for him because they both know he already has.

But, he lies anyway. “You don’t have to, Dooley. You’re still young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.” He stops scratching his arm, worried that red lines will turn into shallow wounds; he doesn’t want to stain his work clothes with blood. Jeremy looks over at him, actually meets his gaze and this time it’s Geoff who has to look away. But it doesn’t stop the kid from taking over for Geoff, blunt nails scratching at what Geoff can only assume is freezing cold skin. Teachers shouldn’t touch students, but fuck, he really wants to lean over and warm him up.

“I can’t die, Mr Ramsey,” he repeats and Geoff can hear the ‘but’ coming, “but I want too,”

 _Yeah, kid,_  he wants to mumble,  _join the club._

“Yeah, kid,” it slips out, and Geoff’s too tired, and hurt, and buzzing to stop it, “join the club.”

It takes Jeremy by surprise a little bit, rather actually, by a fucking lot, because he opens his mouth and then just bites down on his tongue. He lets out a broken sound, and Geoff wonders if he’s tasting blood. Geoff bites down on his own tongue. He wants to taste blood too.

“My dad’s going to kill me, Mr Ramsey,” he whines and Geoff blanches, fingers curling into fists by his sides. “And normally I wouldn’t care, normally I’d be glad, but my mom-” he sucks in another desperate breath and then holds it. Geoff counts. He makes it to twelve before Jeremy releases it. “It would hurt my mom so bad and I can’t, I can’t die Mr Ramsey. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do. I’m so fucking selfish, and horrible. I’m a waste of space, I’m a waste of money. What do I do?” he pleads and Geoff just stares back at him. “What do I do? Please, Mr Ramsey, I don’t know what to do.”

“Why is your dad going to kill you, Dooley?” he asks and Jeremy tilts his head back. The  _why_ doesn’t matter, not really, but Geoff can barely look after himself, so he doesn’t really know how to respond to the kids pleading. He’s buying himself some time and Jeremy's letting him.

“College is expensive, Mr Ramsey,” he whispers like it explains everything, and in retrospect, it kinda does.

“Yeah, it is, buddy,” he replies and Jeremy frowns.

“I’m failing all my classes,” he adds, and Geoff gives him a sad smile. He knows that too. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but in his class, Jeremy’s barely managing a forty percent average.

“I’m sorry, Dooley,” he comforts lamely and Jeremy nods, a couple of sharp jerks.

“Don’t know what I expected, I guess. I’ve never been good at anything. Never been worth much,” he spits, deliberately raking his fingers hard down his arm. It doesn’t matter how blunt his nails are, Geoff knows he’s drawn blood. “Should have just fucking walked into traffic in junior year like I planned too. I’ve fucking wasted everyone's time. I’ve wasted your time. I’m so sorry, Mr Ramsey,” he mumbles and Geoff grits his teeth.

Every now and then, the buzzing will get worse, almost like a punch to the stomach. And Geoff knows that Jeremy would just let him go if he decided to stand up and leave the kid there. Let him suffer alone while Geoff walked home and microwaved a meal for one like he has for the last six months of his life.

So yeah, he could walk away, but there’s something selfish in the way that knowing that Jeremy’s humming  _too_ , that Jeremy’s mind is desperately screaming for something that the kids not getting from anyone else, it makes Geoff feel like he’s not the only one on this godforsaken planet doomed to fail.

So maybe, they can fail together.

He flexes his fingers slowly, curling and uncurling them in front of himself. Jeremy’s gaze snaps to them, and Geoff realises he likes the repetitiveness of the movement. His fingers are  _freezing_ , but that’s what he gets for not slipping them into his pocket, and it’s easy to guess that Jeremy’s are cold too. He leans over between the two of them and plucks the cigarette from Jeremy’s fingers, hesitating for a moment before putting it out on the concrete.

“C’mon, buddy,” he whispers, pushing himself to his feet and slipping his hands into his pockets. Jeremy stares up at him, unsure of what he’s meant to be doing, and so Geoff gestures for him to stand. It takes a couple of minutes, but in the end, the kid moves. “It’s fucking cold out here, ain’t it?” he whispers, taking a step forward and looking back. He smiles when he sees that Jeremy is following him.

“Yeah?” Jeremy replies, very obviously a little bit vulnerable right now. After a moment, he nods, “Yeah… I guess, I- I can’t really tell anymore…” he adds, and Geoff hums.

“A couple of idiots, aren’t we?” he jokes and he’s quick to continue, knowing full well that Jeremy’s hesitant huffed laugh is one that’s completely fake. “Forgot out jackets, need to take better care of ourselves.”

They meet each other's gaze. After a moment, they both know full well that neither one of them  _accidentally_ forgot to keep themselves warm tonight. The cold is a good replacement for a bottle of whiskey and the burn of a cigarette. It also doesn’t leave a mark. It seems as if Jeremy hasn’t been able to avoid his vice for as long as Geoff has though, but then again, it's not like he’s the poster child healthy behaviour.

They walk slowly, Jeremy a half a step behind him, letting Geoff lead. Deep down, he knows the kids looking for something more than he can give him. He knows he’s looking for something to keep him alive. And while Geoff might not be the best role model out there, surely he’s better than nothing.

Surely he’s better than letting a kid die just because everyone's based his worth on his ability to succeed, and not his ability to survive.

“It’s a long walk back to my apartment, kid,” he mumbles though, and Jeremy hums, “I can walk you home on the way there if you’d prefer,” he asks and Jeremy looks at him.

The hum bites at him. Something hollow sits in the middle of his stomach. Jeremy shakes his head.

“I don’t want to go home tonight, Mr Ramsey,” he whispers and Geoff nods.

“Then we better pick up the pace, we don’t want to freeze to death out here,” he replies.

Neither of them laugh.

☾ ☽

Jeremy’s sitting on the couch when he gets home; His eyes are rimmed red.

Geoff’s stomach drops.

“Hey, kiddo. What’s up, hmm?” He asks, instantly dropping his bag by the front door. He crosses the living room with quick strides and drops into the seat beside Jeremy. He tugs at him and Jeremy sinks into his side easily, sniffing quietly. There’s a laptop sitting closed on the coffee table; Geoff’s smart enough to know what it means.

He lets out a sad smile and plants a kiss on the top of Jeremy’s head, lazily rubbing a hand up and down his spine.

“It’s alright, Jeremy. You can’t win ‘em all kid,” he whispers, trying so hard to remember what those damn self-help books said about comforting your kid. In retrospect though, Jeremy’s been living with him long enough to know how emotionally constipated he is, especially when it comes to shit like this. And they’re both in the red, to be honest, Jeremy’s just a better actor about it. So he should be fine, even if he sticks his foot in his mouth.

“Remember what we say?” he soothes and Jeremy turns his tearful gaze towards Geoff. He sucks in a shaky breath, but somehow they still manage to repeat the words in perfect unison. It is a sentence that’s been mumbled between the two of them enough times to be burned into their memory’s by now, so that’s probably why.

“We’re all going to die one day, what's a fucking failed course going to matter when we’re bones in the ground.”

When their words trail off, Geoff gives them a moment. He lets Jeremy steady his breathing and he lets the bubbly anxiety in his stomach settle, and then he reaches for the laptop, pulling it onto his lap and slipping open the lid. Jeremy doesn’t stop him, just watches him closely as he scans Jeremy’s end of semester grades.

What he sees almost makes him drop the fucking laptop.

“What? What the fucking fuck, kid? You! You fucking tricked me?” he screams and Jeremy tears up again, but this time Geoff understands that it’s not from sadness. “All passes?” he hisses and Jeremy gives a sharp nod. He’s practically vibrating in his seat next to him and so Geoff grabs for him, pulling the kid tight against his chest.

“I- I thought I was dreaming,” he mumbles, and Geoff lets out a hysterical laugh, “tell me I’m not dreaming, dad,” he pleads and Geoff bites his lip, grinning wildly.

“Nah kiddo, you’re not dreaming,” he replies and Jeremy hiccups out a sob, “this is as real as things can get, and I’m  _so_ fucking proud of you.”

It’s later that night when Geoff prints out a screenshot of Jeremy’s grades. He repurposes the frame from his degree, slips in the screenshot and he hangs it on the wall behind the television. When Jeremy sees it the next morning, Geoff knows he’s made the right choice.

The look on Jeremy’s face settles the hum in the back of Geoff’s mind for the rest of the day.


End file.
